


target (of my affections)

by anika



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Retail, Humor, M/M, Minor Memes, Target (store)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anika/pseuds/anika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or at least whatever this asshole's twisted definition of "affection" is.</p>
<p>(Alternatively, the ants work retail and an initially reluctant Pariston Hill finds a new pastime.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	target (of my affections)

**Author's Note:**

> dont take any of this seriously this was a Mistake,

“Ging, why are we here?” Pariston’s voice was even, pleasant with that tinge of cheer to it, with just enough masked irritation slipping out for Ging to notice.

“I need stuff,” was Ging’s incredibly informative reply.

“What a surprise. I assumed you simply dug whatever you need out of the trash.”

“And Target lacks the _class_ you need, right?” Ging’s voice was dripping with sarcasm; he made no effort to conceal it like Pariston did.

“You would be correct.”

Pariston’s ever-present winning smile began to fade as they walked through the sliding door threshold. There was only so much public image he could keep up. The stench of department store and generic-brand products hit his nose and he tried his best not to wince, tearing his eyes away from the racks of fashion disasters off to the side.

Speaking of fashion disasters, he spotted the iconic combination of red and khaki as a man in a shitty hat (jesus christ that thing is a _sin_ ), what seemed to be a manager, scolding a much taller employee with shaggy blond hair that desperately needed to be trimmed. Really. They sold scissors here. Take advantage of that employee discount.

“And you absolutely _had_ to bring us to the weird Target across town?” Really, of all places.

“Yep.” Ging didn’t miss a beat. “You could always make it better by doing that thing moms do. Targe, or whatever that bullshit is.”

“...I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” Ging spared a glance over his shoulder. “Well, do whatever you can to entertain yourself. I hear there’s a good supply of glitter in the arts and crafts section.”

Pariston ignored him, watching the disgusting little man walk away. Once there was a good amount of distance, he let out a deep sigh, then tried his best to regain his usual composure of peppy atmosphere and glittering smile. He sort of achieved it.

The section of pure, condensed _mistakes_ was glaring at him, the horrible excuses of clothing mocking him. So, naturally, he made his way over to judge them more. Express his disgust. Maybe scold a retail worker or two.

( _Some_ of the clothes were appealing, but still, just the fact that they were from this pathetic store was enough to make them repulsive.)

He was in the middle of glaring at a shirt with some rude words written in cursive when he heard a voice say those all-too-familiar words.

“Can I help you with something?”

Pariston tore his gaze from the article of clothing and looked at the employee, expecting the usual khaki and getting so much more. The red shirt was _ridiculously_ ruffled, and--were those shitty fairy costume wings?

The man in question kept looking at him, unfazed by the scrutiny he was getting and waiting for a response.

Pariston fixed his expression and smiled. “No, thank you, just waiting on a...colleague.”

“And lamenting the selection we have here, I’m sure. Believe me, it is a tragedy that we don’t have control over what we sell.”

“And why is that?” Pariston’s eyes widened a bit at the remark, his interest piqued.

“Corporations. I’m sure big-name politicians like you would be aware of this fact.”

“You know who I am?”

“You’re far too notorious for anyone not to. Especially in that,” the employee gestured to his sparkling suit. “Though I must admit I admire it.”

Pariston smiled. “Mind explaining those wings?”

He looked over his shoulder at the wings on his back. “Yes, they’re not ideal right now, but they’re an adequate substitute.” He looked back at Pariston. “I’m working on a...much more aesthetically pleasing set. To be quite honest, these ones were a...gift, from a coworker, you could say.”

“I take it was a joke?”

“Yes.” He sighed again, long and drawn out and with a little too much _sound_ to it. “They’re one to make fun of me for it, wandering around with that fake tail attached…”

“Quite the interesting group of coworkers, I see.”

“Indeed.”

“Shaiapouf!” The voice belonged to neither of them, and the employee in question (a quick glance at his nametag confirmed the name) practically jumped as he spun around to face him.

It was the guy in the shitty hat. “If you aren’t assisting someone,” he said sternly, “stop the idle conversation and get to work.”

Shaiapouf bowed, not just the normal bow as a show of politeness and humility but actually _got on one knee_ and _lowered his head._ “Absolutely, Meruem-sama! My deepest, most sincere apologies, do forgive me!”

Meruem looked as if he were about to say something, but chose to shake his head in exasperation instead before walking away.

Shaiapouf then fell forward, elbows on the ground and face hidden in his hands as sobs wracked his body. Pariston watched, somewhat stunned and somewhat unsurprised, and could only make out a few words amongst the muffled, sniffling mess. Something about “failure” and “unworthy” and “disappointment.”

Pariston Hill decided it was time to leave. He could wait outside.

 

* * *

 

It only took him until the next day to realize that his watch had fallen off at some point. It wasn’t really a big deal; yeah, it was an expensive watch, but Pariston was rolling in cash. (Okay, that was a lie, he just “borrowed” Ging’s cash. No one would ever know.) But it couldn’t hurt to check.

Okay, it hurt a little, because he had to go back to that Target. And yet he did it anyway. It would also give him an opportunity to get another look at that... _fascinating_ specimen of a man.

He retraced his steps from when he was there the day before, not stooping to lowering himself to the ground or anything but still scanning the ground and anywhere nearby. There was a significant likelihood that someone stole it, or found it and gave it to an employee (as if they could be trusted), which he tried not to think about. He could get a new one, yes, but he didn’t want to picture some _commoner_ touching one of his possessions.

Nothing. And the other guy was nowhere to be found in the clothing department. But Pariston had wasted his time making the trip already; he might as well wander and try to accomplish his backup goal.

The search led him to the food area, with a certain blond restocking cans of soup.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Pariston said.

Shaiapouf froze before looking up, narrowing his eyes once he saw the glittery politician.

“What are you doing here?”

“Left something. No luck finding it, but I thought I’d say hi.”

Instead of asking what he had left, or offering any other sort of assistance, Shaiapouf sighed for a good few seconds before speaking. “Please, if your business here is over, do find your way out.”

“Not the best customer service here, I see.”

“I will call security.” Shaiapouf went back to lining up cans, not looking at him again.

“That seems a bit extreme,” Pariston said, leaning against the shelf, “is this because I got you in trouble with your manager?”

A flinch. That meant yes.

Pariston chuckled as he studied the employee in front of him, who had apparently elected to ignore him. Pariston also realized, once getting a good look, that he was fairly attractive. Not that he cared too much. (And maybe just because he saw himself in him.)

He moved to stand up straight (as if he could do Anything straight), but knocked a few cans over in the process. He suppressed a smirk at this, shifting again and “accidentally” starting yet another chain of can dominoes.

“Oh no,” he said, staring at the fallen cans with absolutely no emotion in his voice save for muffled amusement.

Shaiapouf was glaring at him now, reaching for the walkie-talkie on his belt and bringing it up to his mouth.

“Youpi. I’d like your assistance here.”

Not even a minute off tense staring, one glaring and the other smirking, passed before a very large man in a security outfit appeared behind Shaiapouf. Was Target even supposed to have security like this? No matter, the man was far more muscular than any human should be, as well as taller than both of them by at least a foot and a half. He easily could have intimidated anyone else.

“How intimidating,” Pariston said, a hint of condescension showing through. “I guess this is a threat for me to leave.”

The large man (Youpi, from what he had heard) crossed his arms as an indication of “yes.”

“Well, I’ll find my way to the door,” Pariston said, his smile widening. He took a few steps before turning around and lifting a hand in a wave. “Farewell, Shai...Shia...Show-” fuck, he didn’t know how to say the name. His grin faltered a bit.

“Just Pouf,” the man in question said, groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Au revoir, Pouf.” It had been a while since he had acquired a new plaything.

 

* * *

 

Pariston had to admit, he couldn’t keep Pouf off his mind. Partially because of those beautiful orange eyes, but also because he would be very, _very_ entertaining to mess with. Another toy, another game.

When he told Ging this at a meeting, it was met with a comment along the lines of “so do you wanna fuck with him or just fuck him or both.” Which was also a good point.

It didn’t take long to locate Pouf during Pariston’s next visit to the unfortunate department store, as Pouf was stationed at one of the cash registers in the desolate expanse of the checkout area.

Pouf was busy filing his nails, so he didn’t see Pariston walk up and lean across the table.

“So, come here often?” he asked, since that was the only pick-up line that he could come up with.

“I work here,” Pouf retorted, “and if I say so myself, _you_ come here _too_ often.”

“Oh, but you were so friendly when we first met.”

“I was simply making conversation, which was a mistake.”

Pariston ignored the statement. “I see you have your new...wings, if I’m correct?”

Pouf glanced at the thing draped off his shoulders. “Oh, yes, I do.”

It looked more like a cape than anything, but had enough fabric to be able to spread out, though Pariston didn’t know how that would be accomplished. It seemed much more colorful on the inside, glitter and iridescence hitting Pariston’s eyes when it caught the light. He had to admit, it was finely crafted. Perhaps he should go into fursuiting.

Pariston voiced the thought. Except the last part.

“Thank you,” Pouf said, “though I am nowhere near exceptional at anything when compared to my King.”

“Your...king?”

“Manager. Same thing.”

“Okay.” Yeah, this guy needed to chill a little.

Pouf seemed to notice that he had left his guard down, since he regained the hard, unwelcoming expression he had had earlier. “Anyways, begone with you, you’re only an inconvenience here.”

“Oh, but I do love talking to you.”

“If you are making some sad attempt at flirting, I’ll have you know that it’s futile.”

Pariston raised his eyebrows. “And why is that? Got someone else on your mind?”

Pouf looked away.

“So I’m correct.”

“It is none of your business.”

“Who is it?”

“I would appreciate it if you stopped harassing retail workers.”

Pariston chuckled. “Whatever you say.” And so he finally walked away; he actually had a list of things to buy and, while he regretted the fact that his purchases would be made from such a store this time, it was an excuse to come back.

He headed down the hall for the soap aisle, even though nothing would ever be strong enough to cleanse him of his sins. It was easy enough to locate, but as he turned to enter, he soon found himself on the ground with something on top of him.

Alright. He’d been tackled.

The perpetrator had him pinned down, staring into his eyes with an expression that gave even Pariston slight chills.

“Excuse me-” Pariston began, but was interrupted.

“Pitou, what are you doing?”

Pariston moved his head to see Pouf standing over him. The person on top of him did the same.

“Please get her off of me,” Pariston said.

“ _They_ ,” Pouf corrected sternly, with an affirmative nod from the other employee.

“Please get _them_ off of me.”

“He was bothering you, wasn’t he?” Pitou asked, a smile playing at their catlike mouth. (Pariston had no idea how they were actually making the >:3 face, but they were nonetheless.)

“Yes, but reserve the tackling of customers for those who are actually breaking rules. Your job is to make sure no one’s shoplifting, not act on the behalf of others save for the King.”

Pitou finally stood up. “He could have been a nuisance to the King, too, if I hadn’t intervened.” They looked down at Pariston, who was still on the ground, propped up on his elbows. “He has a suspicious aura. I don’t trust him here.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” Pouf agreed.

“Why do you people keep calling your manager your-”

“Silence,” Pouf interrupted. “Please, leave now.”

Alright. Pariston could make his purchases elsewhere.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t get to talk to Pouf immediately during his next visit; when he spots him, it doesn’t take long to notice that his attention is already taken, peering around a corner with his eyes locked onto two people standing some twenty-odd feet away in the toy section.

Pariston watched the scene play out. The two people were the infamous manager everyone was obsessed with, still in the shitty hat (and a crop top vest thing? What the fuck) and talking to a small girl with pigtails and a walking stick. There were an absurd amount of emotions mixed together on Pouf’s face, including but not limited to disgust, anger, sadness, and some flavor of guilt.

The manager (Meruem, if he remembered correctly) gave a slight yet genuine smile at the girl, and while Pariston didn’t know the guy, he could tell that it was a little weird considering his usual demeanor. Pouf’s facial expression only intensified in response, and he looked away for a brief moment before glaring at the couple again.

It didn’t take a Cheadle to figure out the gist of what was happening.

Meruem then glanced upwards, the smile fading as he gave a warning glare towards Pouf, who stiffened and turned away again. Pouf understood it as his cue to leave, and naturally, Pariston followed as he sulked away.

“Someone jealous?” Pariston teased when they were out of earshot.

“There is much more to it than that,” Pouf replied, not even sparing him a glance.

“I guess my question from my last visit has been answered.”

Pouf sighed. “Even I am not sure what my intentions towards him are other than unending loyalty, but whatever they are, I cannot have that woman, that _girl_ interacting with him like this.”

“Does this happen often?”

“She found her way here somehow and was an annoyance to us all, even him, but I suppose she grew on him a little too much. Now, as much as I hate to admit it, he enjoys her useless company.”

“Is it really that catastrophic?”

“Yes!” Pouf exclaimed, stopping and turning to face him. “I cannot have her stealing away all of his time and attention! He has other responsibilities, and if this keeps up, the entire store will suffer!”

Pariston could think of other reasons the store would suffer, but he kept them to himself.

Pouf kept going. He brought his hands up to his chest and looked at the ground, tears threatening to fall. “And I must admit, as selfish of me as it is, I do wish he would pay me that attention.” His eyes closed for a moment, a single sparkling tear making its way down his face. “But because even I, a lowly retail subordinate, do not deserve his affections, someone much lower like _her_ most _certainly_ does not.”

He opened his eyes, then turned his head to look up and off into the distance dramatically, the harsh fluorescent lighting glinting off the moisture in his eyes. “Because of her, he pays me even less attention, though perhaps I do deserve it.”

For once, Pariston was almost at a loss for words. “This is a little melodramatic for retail, don’t you think?”

Pouf’s eyes narrowed and he shot him a look. “You simply do not understand.”

Pariston chuckled and changed the subject. “Would you like to grab a coffee sometime, then? Help take your mind off this place?”

“Absolutely not!” Pouf said. “My focus should be on my job, and there is no reason I would do such a thing with the likes of _you_.”

“A drink, then? Of the alcoholic variety?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.”

He turned to leave, eyes closed as he reflected upon the events that had transpired, but stopped when he heard an odd, choked sound from behind him. His eyes opened to see the couple near the exit doors, and he looked over his shoulder to see Pouf’s horrified expression as he watched.

They were still at a safe distance, but Pariston could see the girl get on her toes and place a kiss on Meruem’s cheek, who turned his gaze and shooed her away. The girl appeared to be giggling, but Pariston couldn’t hear much over Pouf’s wailing noises.

For the second time since they had met, Pouf was on the ground, head down and sobbing.

Pariston only watched until Pouf tried to compose himself and stood up again.

“So,” Pouf said, “I may take you up on that offer anyway.”

Pariston smirked. “Wonderful. When do you get off tomorrow?”

Pouf thought for a moment, eyes narrowing, then his expression turned into worry. “I...I don’t know, I just leave whenever I’m told to…”

This Target certainly had some questionable business practices.

“Well, you can just ask for time off, then,” Pariston said. He slipped him a business card, some of the glitter on it falling to the ground. “Get back to me when you can.”

 

* * *

 

The bar was nearly empty, because really, who the fuck goes drinking on a Tuesday? But it was for the best, Pariston thought to himself; he and Pouf could be more alone.

He checked his watch, one of his other fancy expensive ones since he had never located the last one. Ten minutes past eight, which had been the agreed upon time. Fashionably late, all according to keikaku. (T/N: Keikaku means plan.)

Even so, Pouf was nowhere to be found. Pariston smiled and took a seat at one of the booths in the corner, since the few other people were sitting at the bar.

Pariston ordered two drinks ahead of time, getting the same thing for each of them. He passed the time taking the occasional sip and going through his emails, most of which were business-related or insulting memes sent from Ging.

Speaking of memes, twenty minutes had passed when out of the corner of his eye he spotted him: Shaiapouf. He was in his usual cape-wing-thing, in a ruffled button-up shirt like his uniform, though this one was white.

Pariston smiled and waved, knowing his brilliant white teeth would be enough of a beacon to indicate his location. That mixed with the glitter suit made him a lamp to attract the attention of this weird insect furry.

“You made it,” Pariston said as Pouf sat down.

“Indeed,” Pouf said. “This place is very...high end.”

Pariston leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. “Gorgeous people like us deserve only the best.”

“I am inclined to disagree,” Pouf said, “someone as low as m-”

“None of that nonsense.” Pariston pushed the drink he ordered for him forward. “I already got us the first round, but feel free to order whatever else you’d like. It’s all on me.”

As it turned out, a drunk Shaiapouf was quite the...experience, for lack of a better word. He was also a goddamn lightweight, getting beyond “drunk” and into “fucking smashed” after only two of the most elaborate drinks on the menu, the first of which was the one Pariston ordered for him.

He was tearful, too, as one would expect. He ended up sobbing again, one arm wrapped around his head on the table and the other still holding an empty glass. It sounded like he was trying to formulate sentences, but all that came out was a garbled mess punctuated by hiccups and more wailing. Really, they were going to get kicked out at this rate.

Pariston simply watched, though, smiling down at the wasted figure in front of him and taking the occasional picture, one of which was a selfie with him in the corner throwing a peace sign and the main focus on capturing Pouf in his inebriated state. Pariston strongly preferred being the center of attention in pictures, but this one was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Eventually, Pouf’s weeping subsided and he looked up. His face was smeared with tear residue and red from the alcohol, eyes bloodshot and tired. The look on his face was serious, though, and Pariston spoke accordingly.

“Something you want to say?”

“I would get rid of her if I could,” Pouf said slowly, as deliberately as he could in his drunken stupor. “But that would not sit well with him.”

“Oh,” Pariston said, interested in the first statement, “how would you go about doing that?”

“I don’t care,” Pouf said, then hesitated. “I’d kill her if I had to.”

Pariston shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was certainly...something. Quite the extreme measure for such a seemingly petty issue.

Yeah. He liked this guy.

“Well, it’s certainly a shame that there’s nothing you can do.” Pariston stood up, grabbing his bag and placing an adequate amount of money on the table. “Have fun getting home by yourself.” He gave a cheerful wave before he left Pouf to fend for himself.

Pouf hardly even noticed his new predicament. He was still too hammered.

 

* * *

 

He was clearly hungover when Pariston visited the next day. Pouf was alone behind the desk near the fitting rooms, bottle of water in one hand and leaning his head on the other, staring blankly off into the distance with bagged eyes.

“Hello again,” Pariston greeted. He leaned back against the counter, turning his head to the side to look at Pouf.

“Thank you for leaving me there,” Pouf said, “it certainly aided in my current state.”

“Anytime. I do hope I’m not affecting your work again?”

Pouf sighed. “My King hasn’t even noticed how I am feeling yet, much less acknowledged it in any way. I am not sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse.”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” Pariston supplied, and Pouf hummed in agreement. “If you want my opinion, because _everyone_ does, I’d say you should move on.”

Pouf looked offended at first, as if he were about to shoot something back at him, but relaxed after a moment. “Why do you care? Why do you keep returning and insist upon interfering in my life?”

“Because I’ve been bored,” Pariston admitted, “and this is entertaining. _You’re_ entertaining.”

“Am I, now?” Pouf asked. “I don’t know how I should take that.”

“We’re kindred spirits, you and I,” Pariston continued, “which makes it all the more fun, so much more intriguing than I expected. And I would say, in a way, we get along because of it.”

“I am inclined to disagree.”

“I’m acquainted with another person whom I could say the same about, but with us, it’s different. Compared to my relationship with him, I would certainly consider this ‘getting along.’”

Pouf was not in the mood to argue. “If you insist.”

Pariston adjusted his position so he was leaning forward over the counter. “Point is, if you ever need a rebound, I’m available.”

Pouf’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning…?”

Pariston brought a finger up under Pouf’s chin, leaning in a bit more. “I’m sure you know what I mean.” He then stood back, taking great amusement in the look of surprise and confusion on Pouf’s face.

“Well,” Pariston said, voice as cheery as ever, “I’ll be going.”

“Wait,” Pouf said, stopping Pariston from turning by grabbing onto his sleeve.

Normally Pariston would’ve been annoyed (these suits were hard to iron) but he let it go this time, especially since Pouf was forcefully pulling his face across the counter and smashing their lips together, albeit ungracefully. Probably the hangover. Pariston smirked into what could barely be considered a kiss, then pulled back ever so slightly.

“So that’s a yes?”

“You still annoy me.”

“I’ve done this with others under worse conditions,” Pariston said, then brought them back together into an _actual_ kiss, a bit awkward because of the counter in between them but still much better than the last. Some gross stuff with tongues probably happened until they pulled back again for air, when Pariston added, “maybe now you _will_ know when you get off next.”

“That is an innuendo,” Pouf bluntly pointed out.

“Indeed. But I know it can help with hangovers.”

“The fitting rooms are right here.”

“Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Neferpitou watched from afar as that weird politician guy, currently making out with Pitou’s coworker, was essentially pulled over the counter (despite the fact that he could’ve pulled away for two seconds and walked five feet to get around it) and into one of the very non-hidden fitting rooms.

“Of all the shit I could possibly see on the job, this is what it has to be,” they said to themselves before turning around. This was not a place they wanted to linger; Pouf was loud in every aspect.

The pet food aisle was on the other side of the store, and they really needed some catnip right meow.


End file.
